Thwack!
My staggering body was flung onto the hard floor.
"Urk! Hngh..."
My entire body throbbed as if every bone was shattered, and the sudden light piercing my eyelids was excruciatingly painful.
Someone roughly yanked the sack off my head with brutish hands.
"Kuhk! Kuhk!"
I grimaced severely and looked up. Backlit shadows of people flickered indistinctly.
Once my eyes adjusted to the intense light, I could make out my surroundings a bit.
A concrete room enclosed on all sides, lit by excessively bright bulbs.
'What is this, some North Mountain torture chamber...?'
A faint metallic tang of blood drifted from somewhere.
The Lucas inside me freaked out in instinctive terror. My heart pounded wildly, sending chest-splitting pain through my sternum.
'Damn it, calm down! Even if a tiger bites you, stay sharp—huff, no. Regain my composure.'
I desperately tried to cool my head.
"Wh-what's the meaning of this?"
I muttered in a trembling voice, feigning fear. One of the men standing before me hauled me up forcibly and met my eyes.
"You know where you are, right?"
I nodded slowly.
Ossel.
The special police who worshipped Krüger like fanatics.
Named after ancient script meaning "hometown," but unlike that warm etymology, they were objects of fear and dread.
They were police in name only, following a military rank system and committing any atrocity on the Leader's command.
'Pretty trash.'
I muttered inwardly.
Handsome recruits in sleek black uniforms designed by top designers, all passing strict appearance checks.
Tall stature and sharp gazes that could rival movie stars.
But Ossel was a gang of thugs overflowing with idiots, selected purely for looks and loyalty.
'Of course, clueless little Lucas idolized them fanatically.'
Ptoo!
I spat out the blood pooling in my mouth and put on a pitiful, teary expression.
"Ossel... But I've never committed any crime!"
"You don't know what you did wrong?"
The uniformed man brushed back his stylish blond hair and asked. A predator's cruelty dripped from his leisurely smile.
At his glance, another man lightly kicked the back of my unsteady legs.
"Agh!"
Sharp pain hit as I crumpled to my knees. Heavy footsteps approached from somewhere, stopping right in front of me.
"Look up."
Crack!
An Ossel grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. The joint-popping sound. The man I'd suspected smiled down at me.
"Assistant Clerk..."
"Sorry it's come to this, Clerk Redan."
"Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you...!"
I had my suspicions, but I wailed like a lover betrayed.
Hoffmann stared at me with the same cold gaze he'd given that elf actress.
"A few days ago at the audition—you called it a mistake, right?"
'You mad bastard, was it really about that?'
I swallowed the urge to scream, You've got to be kidding me, and shook my head fervently.
"It was a mistake! My stupid blunder! Not intentional at all. Please forgive me!"
"Hmm, but I think you knew exactly what you were doing."
"Assistant Clerk!"
He held up his palm to silence me.
"Talking with you lately, I've noticed—you're not as devoted to the Leader as you used to be. Your loyalty's cooled, hasn't it? You thought I wouldn't notice?"
"N-no way! Even this play, I worked hard for the Leader—"
"I don't trust you. If your heart's still true, prove it—offer your life right here."
"What...?"
Hoffmann's voice was ice-cold, and I was so flabbergasted I could barely keep a straight face.
What kind of lunatic bullshit was this?
"What? Can't do it?"
Before anyone could stop him, he pulled a pocketknife and slashed his palm open. Blood sprayed onto my face in an instant.
"I'm different from you."
Hoffmann calmly showed me his gaping hand.
Clap clap clap!
"Magnificent!"
The Ossels applauded, impressed.
They praised him a bit, bandaged him with a handkerchief, and led him out.
'Crazy bastards....'
I squeezed my eyes shut.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Louder."
"I pledge my loyalty and obedience to Friedrich Krüger, Leader of the Schupaven Republic!"
What time was it now?
I bellowed the civil servant oath thunderously. My throat was raw after over thirty repetitions.
A barren concrete room without a single piece of furniture. My voice echoed off the walls.
"Good. Now, the national anthem penned by the Leader himself."
"Raise the flag! Form ranks! March on, march on! Soak our ankles in the blood of enemies and traitors! The souls of great heroes march with us!"
Thud thud! Clap clap!
"Raise the flag! Form ranks! Praise him, praise him! Seize freedom, bread, and victory with our own hands! The will of great Krüger marches with us!"
Thud thud! Clap clap!
My throat felt like it was bleeding.
Singing without accompaniment, the lyrics praising Krüger made me want to puke more than feel ashamed.
But I sang fervently.
Clapping, stomping in rhythm—perfectly.
I knew why.
They weren't testing my innocence. I knew that full well.
The handsome fools grinned satisfactorily at my clowning.
That reaction actually reassured me.
'They're just enjoying the spectacle. Satisfy them enough, and I'll be released. Definitely.'
"Throat must hurt. Here, have some water."
"Yes, sir!"
At the Ossel captain's words, a subordinate opened the door and left.
"Th-thank you!"
I groveled pathetically at his feet, crawling. Peeking through his legs at the half-open door beyond.
Dim light revealed stark concrete walls lined with identical doors.
Soon, the man returned with a tin kettle. The captain gestured for me to stand as he took it.
I staggered up. He smirked cruelly and tilted the kettle. Clear water poured out.
'Fuck.'
But my body moved as he wanted. I rushed to the stream and caught it with my face.
Splash!
I lapped at the water around my mouth with a grateful expression.
Damn it all—the humiliation aside, the water tasted sweet.
"Hahaha!"
The subordinate Ossels laughed innocently.
"Starved after all that, huh? Could give you some bread too."
"Gasp! Thank you!"
Thankfully, the bread was normal—just rock-hard whole wheat.
While I scarfed it down, an Ossel went out and returned dragging a desk and chair.
"Sit."
I meekly sat on the rough wooden chair. Seeing paper and pen on the desk, I knew what was coming.
'Shit, same damn torture tactics whether in Korea or here.'
The Ossel lit a cigarette, sat across from me, and crossed his legs.
"Write your autobiography. Everything from birth to now, as you remember it."
As expected.
I obediently picked up the pen and started writing.
Of course, not the plain truth. I cleverly tied every event to Krüger's greatness.
For example: In elementary school, my father's business failed, putting us in dire straits, but thanks to Krüger's grace, we got bread, meat rations, school supplies, and I could attend.
That's why I came to revere Leader Krüger and joined the Krüger Youth Corps.
Half-truth, half-lie.
The Redan family did get government aid, but it was from the revolution government's lingering poor relief laws, not Krüger's policies.
Lucas joining the Youth Corps was a family worry, not pride.
His parents weren't Krüger supporters.
Fallen nobility or not, they disliked the revolution government, but hated Krüger even more—a rootless upstart playing king.
'Maybe that's why Lucas turned rebellious.'
I huffed warm breath on my numbing fingers in the chill air, thinking.
When Krüger was at peak popularity, Lucas was in high school—peak puberty, clashing hard with his parents.
He rebelled, saying he'd become a Krüger soldier, even ran away against their wishes. Half a year later, both parents died in a shipwreck.
Shocked, he slid further into ruin.
'Should've listened to his parents.'
My own parents suddenly came to mind, bringing tears.
If I'd known I'd end up in this absurd otherworld, I'd have visited their columbarium instead of lounging on the East Coast during vacation.
The Ossel captain picked through my densely written autobiography, grilling me on every detail.
The room reeked of cigarette smoke; weirdly cold for summer, goosebumps prickled my arms.
Hours of Q&A, dredging memories, choosing words carefully—it was mentally exhausting.
I wrote two more "autobiographies," fawning over my "adoration" for the Leader with cringeworthy flattery.
No physical torture, but it was torture nonetheless. Body and mind in tatters.
How long had it been?
As I fought collapsing from exhaustion, an Ossel entered and whispered to the captain.
He looked at me and twisted his lips.
'I'm saved.'
I forced my blurring vision to focus, thinking.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Neigh!
Thud!
My jostled body tumbled out of the carriage like luggage.
The cart that dumped me unceremoniously retraced its path indifferently.
I lay still on the ground for a while, then slowly reached up and pulled off the sack over my head.
"You fucking bastards..."
My voice came out venomous even to my own ears.
To calm down, I clenched and unclenched my fists until my nails dug in painfully.
Once my frantically pounding heart settled, I looked around.
A grassy park in an unknown neighborhood.
Dawn just breaking—desolate, no one around.
"Dawn, huh. So about a day and a half passed?"
I muttered, grimacing.
Trapped in that timeless concrete room, even faint sunlight hurt my head.
"Vicious pricks."
Another curse slipped out.
After toying with me enough, the Ossel captain had his men make calls here and there, finally deeming me trustworthy.
Idiots that they were, they even suspected Hoffmann—the one who snitched on me.
Thank God!
First time I was grateful for Lucas's past.
As the captain led me out hooded, he said lightly,
"Don't let me see you again."
Adding cheerfully,
"Next time, you won't leave here."
I half-listened, instinctively tracing the narrow corridor walls with my fingers.
Hopefully I'd never return, but life doesn't go as planned.
Right, left, right. Long straight, then 45 degrees right.
The maze-like layout etched in my mind.
I memorized it firmly.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Suddenly... I'm starving."
Those Ossel fuckers gave me just one hard bread chunk and a kettle of water over a day and a half of interrogation.
I pushed up from the soft grass and staggered onward.
Even walking was grueling. Rolled and tossed since yesterday—every inch ached.
Lifting my clothes revealed purple bruises on my limbs. My back was surely black and blue.
'Wonder what Mrs. Schmidt and Daniel are up to.'
If they'd been hassled because of me, a sane guy like me couldn't stay at that boarding house anymore.
What a mess one psycho caused.
"That Hoffmann bastard..."
I ground my teeth softly and shook my head.
"Don't think about it now."
For now, I just wanted to rest.